Sacked (Gridiron #1)

“Nope. That was to give you good luck during the game.”


I tug the large sack of fabric over my head, revealing a skintight black dress I found at the thrift store that Riley tailored to fit my body. It’s a gorgeous piece of real silk, formerly about three sizes too big. I had my doubts, but Riley insisted and the results look stunning. Knox’s mouth falls halfway open and even Ty’s eyes have a glazed look to them.

“That’s a real nice dress, baby,” Knox croaks out as I waltz by him to pick up my clutch—also a thrift store find.

“Thanks.” I pat his cheek, thrilled at the possessive, hungry way his eyes eat me up.

Dinner is excruciating. Every touch drives me crazy and it’s the same for Knox. We can’t keep our hands off each other, and yet the only way to make it through the dinner is to stay apart. I nearly cling to his mother while he stands awkwardly by his brother, eating me up with his eyes.

There are dozens of well-wishers here.

Ty’s agent comes by, a brusque, bald man shorter than me. He’s a lawyer, Knox tells me, hard-nosed and no-nonsense. There’s not a whiff of scandal around him.

After what seems like hours later, we escape back to the hotel. We race each other to the bedroom. He sweeps my hair to the side and runs a broad hand down my back.

“Where’s the zipper in this damn thing?” he growls against my neck.

“Side zipper.” I lift my arm and show him the pull.

He tugs it down, running two warm fingers along the skin exposed as the zipper lowers. I don’t quell the shiver that skates across the surface of my body, because I don’t care if he knows how easily I’m seduced by him and his touch.

We have no more secrets between us.

In the crook of my neck, he buries his nose. His chest heaves against me as he inhales. “I started my life the day I met you. Everything before then was practice.”

I clutch him closer. Words are easy for me to write, but so much harder to say. He’s making it easier by loving me so freely.

“I never knew I could feel so happy until you came along. I never knew what it meant to belong...” I swallow hard because I don’t want to cry. This is a time for celebration. I press my own head down against his.

“I know, baby.” His lips curve against the tender spot where the shoulder and neck meet. He loves it when I get emotional. “We didn’t fall for each other. We fell into each other, and now we’re carrying each other forward into our perfect future. I can’t wait to spend every tomorrow with you.” As if he knows that I’ve hit my limit, he pulls back and throws me on the bed. “But right now I can’t wait until I’m inside of you.”

Hairpins, ties, underwear go a million different directions until it’s just Knox and me, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, heart to heart.

“I love you,” he whispers as he moves above me.

His hands roam over my shoulders. The rough pads of his fingers scrape along my collarbone, over the rise of my breasts, pausing to circle my hard nipples. Each touch feels more loving than the last.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says with reverence. “Beautiful and mine.”

I push up against him, ready to be filled. He doesn’t hurry, though. We have all the time in the world. Our whole future lies ahead of us.

He settles between my legs and his big frame pushes my legs farther apart until I’m completely exposed to his look, his touch, his caress. I lick my lips when he takes himself in his hand and positions himself at my entrance.

I curve around him, fitting my body against his in the perfect way we learned suits us best. Into his hard edges, I rub my soft parts. He strokes me with a firm and knowing grip, finding that little spongy flesh that makes my toes curl and elicits a sharp, reedy sound from the back of my throat.

“I know you’ll win next week,” I tell him with a tired and happy smile.

“Doesn’t matter.” He cups my chin tenderly. “I’ve already won the most important game of my life.”





Epilogue





Ellie





Eve of Draft


“So my agent says I’ll be drafted by the New York Cobras.” Knox gets off the phone and happily lays it on the table. He’s not at all perturbed that he’ll be the third pick in the draft instead of the first. “He should be here in about ten minutes.”

Knox’s agent arranged for us to have a dinner together with the family before the draft tomorrow. Knox and I arrived early for once. Usually we’re late because we’re too busy being newlyweds. Secretly I think his agent may have lied about the time we needed to be at dinner.

If it has to do with football, Knox is on time. Any other obligation, and he’s more interested in keeping me in bed with him.

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